


Let it Be

by thelonebamf



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 04:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8518420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: There were dark days behind them, and plenty more ahead. But with direction, and purpose, comes hope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Had an anon ask for a 'cute' story but this is what came out. IDK if it's 'cute' exactly, but hopefully it will provide a little encouragement.

Thankfully, Snake hadn’t given him a pep talk.

 

He’d learned long ago that Hal responded poorly to general platitudes, open words of encouragement falling on deaf ears, reassurances picked apart like the grammatical errors on a cookie’s fortune.

 

For someone with so much blind hope for the future, Hal could be spectacularly obstinate when it came to letting himself be cheered up.

 

So Snake had had to find another way.

 

When they’d shared his cabin, and memories of Shadow Moses kept Hal awake, raw edged and weary- Snake had snapped, told him to turn off the damn computer and go outside, feed the dogs, literally anything to put some space between them.

 

He’d almost forgotten the outburst entirely until he Hal didn’t return for hours, face red, tendrils of hair stuck to his face with sweat.

 

“Fed the dogs. And brushed them out. All fifty.”

 

Snake had never seen the man look so… at peace.

 

Except for perhaps half an hour later, when he’d collapsed on the sofa, utterly exhausted.

 

* * *

 

In the days after the tanker, Hal was a wreck. Snake lay in his bed, lungs still aching with saltwater and could hear him pacing, mumbling to himself, none of it good.

 

The dogs were worlds away, rehomed with some of Snake’s friends or other mushers he’d met out on the trails. They’d be no help to them here in this dingy safe house just beyond New York’s state lines.

 

Snake took a deep breath, air straining against his chest until he felt that familiar sting plucking at the back of his throat. He began coughing harshly, loud enough that he could be sure Hal would hear him.

 

“Everything okay?” Hal held the door open, but refused to enter the room, a lumpy figure against the hallway’s light.

 

Just one more cough, a rough clearing of the throat would be enough. “Shoulda' cleaned the place up when we got it. Probably twenty years of dust hiding in the corners.”

 

“Guess we never thought we’d need this place so soon.”

 

“Probably not helping me much,” Snake added quickly, throwing on a long snort, letting the congestion rattle his chest.

 

Hal stood still for moment, but Snake didn’t miss the slight, bob of his head.

 

“I’m on it.”

 

Snake gave him a couple of hours before finally emerging from his room, and there was Hal on his hands and knees, sweat beading on his face as he scrubbed away at a particularly stubborn streak of grime by the floorboards. He’d never been much of a housekeeper, but he’d tackled the job with his usual tenacity and the effort showed.

 

“Almost done in here, I can get to your room next,” he said, still not turning his head- but Snake could see that telltale look of determination on his face.

 

“Thanks, Otacon. Good work.”

 

* * *

 

 

After Big Shell, it was different. Getting the hostages to safety had been a meaningful distraction at the time, but now there was no outrunning the fallout.

 

And Hal had been running for years.

 

He sat now, in the seat next to Dave, head pressed against the window as drops of rain streaked by his unblinking eyes. Neither of them had spoken in hours.

 

“Hungry?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

The roadside restaurant didn’t have a name, just “DINER” in faded red letters above the awning. Dave slid into his side of the booth while Hal had more of a crash landing.

 

“You boys been on the road a while?” The waitress, a middle aged black woman with a colorful scarf keeping her hair back, sidled up to their table before setting down two glasses of water.

 

“You could say that.” Dave plucked a menu from the wire stand by the window, but kept his eyes on Hal. He was never really one for small talk, glad that his partner seemed eager to step into the line of fire between him and overly chatty cashiers, but it looked like today the job would fall to him.

 

“Special is meatloaf and… no wait, what is it Wednesday? Turkey and dressing. I tell you, it has been a _day._ ”

 

“I know the feeling.” Dave turned the menu is his hand, giving it a cursory look before tucking it away again. “Two specials would be great, thanks.”

 

“Okay, hon,” She scribbled the order on her notepad. “You want anything else? Coffee? Your friend here looks like he could use a cup. Or a pot.”

 

Hal still made no move to answer, but Dave gave her a brief nod.

 

“Alright then, I’ll bring some over.”

 

Dave waited until she was gone around the corner, sweeping up the loose change left to her by her last guests, tucking the crumpled bills into her apron as she hummed along to the radio.

 

“I won’t ask if you want to talk…”

 

“And that,” Hal sighed, “is one of the reasons I like you.” He adjusted himself in his seat, cheap plastic squeaking behind him as he drew himself up into a more dignified posture.

 

“But we need to think about our next move.”

 

“Do we? I mean, really?”

 

“Thinking about quitting? Walking away?”

 

Hal finally looked up at him, but his eyes were empty of tears, his voice unwavering. Tired.

 

“No. I… I mean I don’t know. What… what are we even doing? I mean, what’s the point of it all? We destroy a few machines, take away some organization’s firepower but…” He took his glasses off and set them on the table while he rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

 

“People still get hurt.”

 

The bell hanging from the diner’s door jangled as a family tumbled inside.

 

“No Nintendos at the table! Come on, scoot in so your sister can fit.”

 

“Can I have pizza?”

 

“I don’t think they have pizza, babe. Maybe… a burger?”

  
“With fries?”

 

“Okay, but have some salad too. Oh, peach tea! Perfect.”

 

The ruckus shook Dave from his train of thought, the strain of conversation and keeping up a semblance of normalcy already taxing his limited mental energy. But soon the coffee was dropped off and he resolved to return to an old stand-by.

 

“Well… maybe that’s the next step.”

 

“Sorry?” Hal had been at least temporarily revived by his first sip, but had clearly sight of the topic at hand.

 

They had a second more to think as the waitress returned again, two miniature Thanksgiving dinners on blue plates in hand. She swayed out back to the kitchen, still humming along to some song that Hal recognized as being ‘a classic’, but couldn’t name.

 

“You’re the ideas man,” Dave continued, fitting a glob of mashed potatoes onto his fork. “I reason it’s up to you to sort it out. What _is_ the point Hal? What are we fighting for? To open people’s eyes? Protect the future?”

 

He caught the eye of the father across the diner floor, and they exchanged nods and grim smiles. The knowing look of two men who had spent a lengthy amount of time in the service. Dave held his eye until the man looked away, attention drawn by his children, laughing over the punchlines to knock-knock jokes they’d made up at the table.

 

“Change the world?”

 

Hal looked up from his drink, considering.

 

“You boys ‘bout done here?” There was a gentle rip of paper as the waitress set their check on the table. The bill was well under twenty dollars, cost of living absurdly cheap this deep in the middle of nowhere.

 

“Wrapped you up some sweet potato pie,” she added with a wink. “My maw-maw’s recipe. Somethin’ tells me you two have a long road ahead yet.”

 

Hal gave her a tired smile as Dave reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills.

 

“That’s all you.”

 

She smiled warmly before stacking their plates and disappearing, song still light on her lips.

 

“In my hour of darkness… mmm mm mmm… right in front of me….”

 

Hal watched her go, anxiousness slowly ebbing from his face. The bright patterns of her scarf slipped over her shoulder, trailing behind her as she disappeared into the kitchen once more.

 

“No,” he said suddenly, and it took David a moment to catch his meaning. “I don’t think it’s about that. We’re just two men, who are we to say what those changes should even be? Solidus tried and…” He shook his head.

 

“There’s a lot of good in the world already,” he said at last. “All we have to do is preserve it. Just… let the world be.”

 

Dave chuckled softly. Sometimes Hal had this way of simplifying things in a way that made even the most daunting task seem mundane. Obligatory, even. He grabbed the paper sack on the table, preparing to leave.

 

“Well, as long as that’s all,” he grinned. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Hal stood from the table and spent a moment popping the muscles in his neck, shoulders pinching ever so slightly as he rolled them back.

 

“We've got work to do.”


End file.
